


walk me through the purple light

by hiraethie



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Living Together, M/M, Pining, Seokmin is a life-saver, Sharing a Bed, Subtle Denial of Feelings, it gets pretty dramatic i would say, there is a handjob here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27936872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiraethie/pseuds/hiraethie
Summary: It takes Minghao only a week for not being able to sleep without Junhui ever again.
Relationships: Implied Kim Mingyu/Lee Seokmin | DK, Wen Jun Hui | Jun/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 14
Kudos: 93





	walk me through the purple light

**Author's Note:**

> So, hey! This is a story about home being the arms of another because ao3 user hiraethie has issues with belonging, also sharing beds is my thing, you might have noticed. The title is from the song Purple Light by Elliphant and Doja Cat.  
> Hope you enjoy it and consider listening to the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4IB2J6O5NGM90C4oNgpkxc?si=4-GFCfHWRLGa-r-XGKy2-Q)!!
> 
> Disclaimers: this may have a lot of dialogues but I do consider them as Very Necessary, so maybe it doesn't come off as dialogue-heavy; I really mean it when I say Seokmin is a life-saver here because if it wasn't for him, this would have gone in a completely different way (it was supposed to); there's a scene that was written with the intention of being completely awkward. You will know.

_Warm your feet at the sunset_

_Before we go to bed_

_Read your book by the light of Orion_

_With Sirius guarding your head_

_Then reach out and switch off the planets_

_We'll watch them go out one by one_

_You kiss me and tell me you love me_

_By the light of the last setting sun_

_We'll both be up early tomorrow_

_A new universe has begun_

_(Galactic Lovepoem - Adrian Henri)_

  
  


It takes a tablespoon of boredom and a whole bowl of certainty he won't be able to sleep anytime soon on a Monday night for Minghao to decide he wants to watch a movie — a new one, one he has seen a thousand and four times, whatever — something to keep his mind away from the moppy shoes by the door which certainly haven't dried since the time he got home and from the text he should have read for his next Musical Theatre class but _obviously_ has not. 

At first, he wants to watch it alone so he doesn't need to leave the not-so-soft sofa. In the end, he beams at a cute cat picture he sees while scrolling down his Twitter timeline before getting up. In the middle, he decides to ask Junhui — a long time friend who sleeps in the bedroom next door in their small shared apartment — if he wants to join him. 

He locks his cell phone when he gets up and takes nearly three steps to get to the door decorated with a Gin from Hotarubi no Mori E lenticular sticker saying _Hello!_ to him. He knocks twice just for the sake of politeness and sticks his head inside when he listens to Junhui's voice welcoming him in with a shout.

Minghao realises the reason why said shout was needed when he sees Junhui is wearing his obnoxious cat headphones, sitting by his small desk with the computer lighting up his face, the only light on other than the purple LED ones circling the room where the walls meet the ceiling. It is a good vibe, Minghao can give him that. It still doesn't exclude the fact Junhui copiously complains about not being able to copy his lecture notes because he _simply_ _cannot see._

"I'm gonna punch you next time you ask me to see what bus is coming next for you, you can bet that I will, and I won't have any regrets."

Junhui takes off his headphones, keeping his eyes on the screen as Minghao sits at the end of his bed. "Did you only come here to judge my lighting choices, Haohao? I don't think you did, but you're still welcomed if that happens to be the case."

"Not only that, but your posture also sucks," Junhui smiles at the retort when he catches the joking tone in Minghao's voice — at least _half-joking_ tone. "I wanna watch a movie and thought you would like to watch it with me."

"Oh," there's a heavy clicking sound, fingers tapping furiously on the keyboard speeding up to stop with a harsher one. Junhui's eyes find Minghao's as he loses the match. "How convenient, I didn't want to continue playing anyway." Minghao giggles, shaking his head. "But, yeah, I like the idea. I'll set things up. Can you make popcorn?" 

Minghao complies before Junhui can give him some weird kind of puppy eyes — Minghao knows he would do it because that's just how Junhui is — getting to the minuscule kitchen and putting two bags of popcorn in the microwave, one after the other. 

×

The two bags are mixed in the largest bowl they own when Minghao shoves it into Junhui's arms and sits beside him under the fluffy duvet on his friend's bed.

"Did you pick something?" Then, he takes a moment to think when he catches a mischievous look in Junhui's eyes, "Something that's not _Love, Rosie_ again, Jun." 

"Of course I did, I changed it up this time. We are watching _Fast and Furious 5,_ " he looks _really_ serious, Minghao is ready to scream, or whine, or both. 

"You're joking." 

"Yes, I am," he laughs and presses the play button. "It's _Love, Rosie_ again." 

"Can't fucking believe you," Minghao shoves a handful of popcorn inside his mouth. 

"You love me," Minghao agrees without a single ounce of reluctance and eats more. "Don't get my bedsheets covered in butter, or else I'll make you wash them up."

"Eyes on the screen, Junjun," he says in a very condescending way. It makes Junhui laugh again, Minghao likes the sound.

×

Minghao feels extra hot when he wakes up but it doesn't stop him from sliding even further under the duvet once the sunlight mixes itself up with the purple LEDs which were apparently left on during the night. It takes his drowsy brain five seconds to realise his own bedroom doesn't have purple lights or childhood pictures spread on the walls. Despite being completely conscious, he doesn't move.

He is very aware of the warm feeling of another leg touching his own, of the slight snoring sound just above his head, and of the littlest scent of vanilla shampoo — he knows it is the shampoo, not a cologne, because it's the smell which stains their apartment every time Junhui showers — coming to his nostrils from the pillowcase under his head. He moves his hand away from Junhui's chest — where his fingertips cover the black T-shirt just enough to feel the quiet heartbeat barely insistent but still there, _gladly_ still there — and it falls in a closed fist near his hips.

Minghao understands the fact that he slept halfway through the movie he has seen a thousand and four times before he could catch Junhui crying when Rosie misses Alex's wedding as he _always_ does. He, again, understands he fell asleep on Junhui's bed, with him, basically on top of him, and that it should be _too_ hot to be comforting, however, he doesn't actually want to get up, not when Junhui is probably too lost in dreamland to remember he has classes to attend. Minghao's mind makes him wonder how can someone look so ethereal with pillow creases all over his arms and lips slightly parted, but shakes the thought off as fast as he can.

He does get up anyway because he has to, and the lack of warmth feels too cold even when it's probably around 21°C out there. Junhui gratefully doesn't wake up when he leaves the bed and Minghao doesn't run his hands through Junhui's messy bed hair despite wanting to.

×

It is hard to tell if it was a car crash, an aeroplane on fire, someone following him, or the death of a friend, but Minghao is sure he has had a nightmare when his breath is heavy, palms sweaty and teardrops hug his eyelashes refusing to properly fall.

The lamp on his desk is on — he doesn't remember leaving it on, but maybe he was just too tired to properly turn it off — and the green cup of water is now half empty because of the big gulp he has just taken to try to calm down his senses. It's been weeks since he hasn't had a nightmare, and of course, it had to happen on a Tuesday night before his seminar presentation. Life is truly unfair.

Minghao washes his face on the bathroom sink when he gathers the courage to leave his bed and sits on the cheap carpet in the living room for about half an hour, reading on his phone to try to feel sleepy again. 

It doesn't work. 

The idea sparkles in his head when the image of his small dark room feels too much, huge, too alone. He thinks he will regret it in the morning, Junhui may not even want him there, but he takes the shot, twists the doorknob with a trembling hand and closes the door behind him, walks feather-like steps up to Junhui's bed, pokes his arm. He turns around but only opens his eyes when Minghao softly calls out his name, feeling his cheeks heating up when Junhui looks up at him wide-eyed, sitting up a little too fast, seemingly vanished from any drowsiness despite his hair giving away his slumber state. He looks worried, Minghao feels small.

"Would you mind if I sleep here again?" His voice isn't louder than a whisper, he can't manage it to be louder than that. "Had a nightmare. It's okay if you don't want to, I just thought I'd ask."

"Hey, hey," Junhui touches his hand soothingly. He feels like he should pull away but doesn't, he holds it instead. "Don't you worry, come here."

He slides to the side, closer to the wall, and lifts his comforter, to which Minghao gets under. Junhui hugs him tightly before he can even move to get more comfortable. They stay like this for a while, Junhui's hands rubbing circles on his back and on his arm before he breaks the silence, "Do you wanna talk about it?" 

Minghao considers for a second, though he can't quite grasp what the nightmare was really about, and if it was about what he supposes it was from a fading memory, he would never want to think about it again, let alone talk about it, so he shakes his head negatively and holds Junhui with his arms on his back, pressing more against him. 

"It's okay," he says tenderly. "It's going to be gone very soon. You can sleep, they won't catch you here." 

Junhui's calming voice, light touches, and the vanilla scent are enough to lull Minghao to sleep again. 

×

Minghao is alone as he wakes up in the morning.

He is closer to the wall than he remembers to be, but it allows him to stretch his arm out of his warmth bubble and touch a picture of both him and Junhui on their first day of university. He smiles as he traces all the features of it, forcing himself to get out of the bed right after, remembering his duties for the day and praying that he is not late for the classes.

His first stop is the bathroom, then the kitchen, where he finds a big Wen Junhui eating by the counter while putting his shoes on. He looks at the clock on the wall, 6:45. They still got 45 minutes until classes start, it is going to be alright. 

"Good morning, baby. I made breakfast for you." 

Junhui passes some bowls to him as he sits on the stool, limps still feeling numb, the light too bright to handle, not completely awake, he figures when his mouth is faster than his brain, "Don't call me baby."

There's a chuckle, Minghao starts to eat. "I thought you liked pet names or at least didn't mind them."

Minghao looks at Junhui who smirks at him before giving all his attention to his food. He blinks once, twice, _three times_ , swallows.

Then, it sinks in. _Damn it._

His mouth is full of food, food his best friend made for him. His head is full of a nickname, it is full of the way he responded to it, the nickname — that should be casual, that _is_ casual — so familiar suddenly heavier on his tongue than the food itself. "I don't _mind_ them. You can call me _baby_ , it's fine, call me all the pet names, I like them."

By the way Junhui stares at him, with squinted eyes and a devious smile, Minghao thinks he is fucked. Caught red-handed on something he is not even sure of. 

"I think I know what's going on," he says it like he is sure he has discovered a secret of the universe, Minghao hopes he has not. "You're dating someone. You're seeing someone you haven't told me about yet — no pressure, though, do it whenever you're comfortable — and they call you _baby_ , so you, being one who treasures nicknames so bad, don't want me to call you by the same things they do, which is totally fine, but I'm kinda disappointed you let them call you by something that was _mine_ in the first place."

He looks so proud, arms crossed and all. Minghao looks at him like he is completely out of his mind, and swallows the food again. This is way worse than he thought it would be. "Do you even listen to the things you say, Junhui? Like, honestly." 

"What? I think that's totally plausible. I think you're _super_ _datable_ , Haohao."

Again, "Do you even _listen_ to the things you say, Wen Junhui?" He can't believe it, he really can't. "I am not dating anyone, I'm not _seeing_ anyone, there's no one other than you who calls me by those kinds of names."

Junhui laughs like he means it, "Okay, okay. You got so defensive, it's hilarious," he gets up to put his cutlery in the sink. "I mean it, you know? I think you're super datable."

" _For fuck's sake_ , Junhui, would you stop saying that? This is so weird."

He seems to not be able to stop laughing, his whole body shaking to follow the sound, and Minghao follows Junhui's body, unable to fight a beam being showcased alongside the redness on his face. "Please."

"Don't worry," he contours the counter, and messes with Minghao's hair — to which he needs to fight his languid head against leaning into the touch, he succeeds — before going to his room. "You were the weird one first, though, avoiding my love like that."

He hears the voice through the apartment as he goes to his own room to change his clothes and put all the books back inside his bag.

 _Indeed_ , Minghao agrees. He shakes his head to avoid diving into it, telling himself he's doing so in front of the mirror in order to style his hair.

He catches Junhui leaning onto the doorframe while analysing his face, his eyes softer than they were before. "Are you feeling better?" 

Minghao turns around, sighing, "I am, really. Thank you for holding me. It was nice."

 _It was nice_ , good one. 

"It's alright. You can come to me whenever. It's cozy. The important thing is that you're okay now, none of it was real."

Junhui doesn't ask again if he wants to talk about what happened in the dream, and Minghao knows by the way he looks at him he won't do it once more unless Minghao is the one to ask him to talk about it first. He is glad for that. He knows Junhui will be there for him in case he needs it, without a single trace of pressure on it. There's no _thank you_ or _sorry_ he needs to say to this. In fact, Minghao wants to thank Junhui for it, but he knows he will only either brush it off or squint his eyes at him, so he smiles, nods, and picks his bag up.

×

Maybe it is insomnia, maybe there are thoughts Minghao can't take away from his own head, maybe it's the book he was reading some minutes before turning off his lamp running through his mind, but there's nothing he can seem to do on this exuberant Wednesday night to oblige himself to close his eyes for some peaceful time he actually craves for after having a super stressful day. 

At this point — a part of him thinks when he has got his head on his pillow and blankets up to his ears — he's perhaps only making excuses as to why his bedsheets don't have a soft vanilla smell, or to why he's not warm enough, and he is considering if the purple lights may _possibly_ have some effect on the brain so they can help him sleep better.

He is fully awake, walking by the living room when he thinks he doesn't have _any_ excuse this time. There is no nightmare nor movie, his hands are not trembling neither is he too tired to walk to his own bedroom, it is the complete opposite situation. The door with the glittery Gin is partly opened to add to the unusualness of it all. Junhui never leaves his door opened at night, superstition or whatever. Maybe that's the excuse he needs, just checking in if everything was alright.

_He immediately regrets it._

Minghao knows he should have stayed in his bedroom when, after getting himself through the door and closing it softly with his foot, he takes a look at Junhui sitting on the bed, fully awake, a hand down his pants, an exasperated look on him. 

Minghao gasps loudly with realisation as he forces his eyes shut right after catching a shook Junhui covering his lower body with his blanket.

"Minghao, would you _mind_ if I asked you–"

"I don't _know_ , alright?" He knows he sounds flustered, not even sure if the purple glow can hide his pink cheeks. "I woke up and saw the door opened, thought I'd check if you're okay."

" _Yeah_ ," he is slightly out of breath, maybe out of surprise, but Minghao doubts it a little. "You could say I'm okay, now if you don't mind..."

Minghao should leave. He has to, he can barely open his eyes, he _needs_ to leave. This is a level of intimacy no one needs to have with their roommate, friend, best friend, super mega bro, platonic companion through life. That's all they are. 

A part of him is actually impressed that it all didn't happen earlier. For all he knows, he could have been the one being walked on throughout these past two years. For all he knows, he shouldn't have a stain behind his eyelids in the form of Junhui's arms, and neck, and parted lips, and eyes reflecting alien-like light.

Add it to the list of decisions Minghao shouldn't have taken today when his hand lets go of the doorknob he didn't quite know he was already holding — only a twist, he would walk out of the bedroom and they wouldn't need to talk about it again. Except the twist happening is the one of his whole body turning around to face Junhui again. "You're right. I don't mind."

Minghao can picture Junhui's face even with his eyes still closed, "What do you mean?"

It's a daring situation, regret stains his brain in big red words, he knows none of them moves when he opens his eyes and lets out a breath he wasn't aware of holding. There's something magnetic about the way his feet move to their own accord, taking his body to sit on the edge of Junhui's bed. It is even more alluring when he doesn't move away.

"May I help you?"

Minghao can't explain, there's no answer to _any_ of the unsaid questions pairing in between them. Junhui looks desperate to do something about both of the situations he has to deal with right now, it makes him look done with the sheer complexity of it. "Minghao, honestly, _I_ am the one who should be saying this."

"No, I'm _actually_ asking you, _may I help you_ _?_ "

And for the first time, they take a minute to properly _look_ into each other's eyes, Minghao doesn't want to think about what truly makes him ask this kind of a question, doesn't want to catch Junhui's eyes scanning his face, probably looking for traces indicating his descending into madness, doesn't want to see his best friend biting his lips the way he does when he starts considering the offer.

"Fuck it. _Fuck_ it, you know?" It sounds urgent, almost like a plea, even when it is not meant to be like that. "Yes, yes, you may. Help me or whatever." 

"Excuse me," his voice is small, his ears buzz due to his heart thumping so fast.

"You're excusing yourself to touch my dick, Xu Minghao."

There's a bite in his tone Minghao thinks he has only heard twice coming from him, which is understandable in a way. It is accusatory, it is shameless, and he doesn't answer.

 _Shameless_ is exactly how he feels like when his hand is the one substituting Junhui's as he pulls his sweatpants just the necessary amount past his hips and begins to stroke him, slow pumps at first which make Junhui sink his teeth into his lips even more. 

This is definitely not how Minghao had thought things would proceed when he went past the door only some minutes ago, but right now he finds himself picking up a pace, getting comfortable with his motions, adjusting his own body to the situation, synchronising his breathing to Junhui's as he catches the way he squeezes his eyes and how his jaw goes slack with the motion of Minghao's fist. 

It is almost hypnotic, the way his lips shape themselves into a thin line to prevent a sound from coming out of them, and the way Minghao holds his left fist against his mouth to prevent a moan of his own to escape from his lips as it would certainly make things even more awkward to deal with, being completely in trance by hard grips on the bedsheets and deeps sighs.

"Aren't you going to kiss me?"

The question catches Minghao by surprise, he gulps down and prays that Junhui doesn't realise the shift of his voice. "What do you mean?"

Maybe he does, Minghao catches as he stares directly at his eyes, darker, deeper than they usually are, a smirk on his lips and a semi-reflective purple glow on his skin caused by a thin coat of sweat. 

"You're fucking _wanking_ me and you don't plan to kiss me anytime soon?"

 _Oh._ "Do you want me to?"

There's no answer, Minghao gets closer nonetheless as Junhui throws his head back, panting. When Minghao gives it up and kisses — ever so chastely — Junhui's neck, he hears a loud gasp, but can't find it within himself to continue, _can't_ do anything more aggressive despite their situation, despite getting filled with desire little by little and wanting to lay down open-mouthed kisses onto his skin, so he rests his forehead on Junhui's shoulder and uses his other hand to caress Junhui's arm, holding him in place. 

When he speeds up, Junhui's hips jerk up involuntarily, chasing for more, groaning as he does so, completely giving up on being quiet. Minghao needs to softly bite his shoulder to avoid cursing, holding himself as much as he can, trying not to show how truly gone he also is without receiving anything until Junhui finishes off with a raspy moan, head tilting to the side to rest on top of Minghao's.

When he feels Junhui has calmed down, Minghao takes the tissues he finds somewhere in the bed and delicately cleans both of them, Junhui hisses with the sensibility. Minghao gets up, has a visible boner he can't manage to hide.

"Do you want me to–"

" _No._ " He says it harsher than intended, hands holding the side of his trousers so they won't tremble. "Don't worry about it, don't worry about me."

He leaves the bedroom before Junhui can say anything, before even properly looking at his face, going straight to the bathroom. He looks at himself in the mirror, wets his face and the nape of his neck, closes his eyes, and thinks about the way Junhui presses his eyes shut when he is enjoying himself _way_ too much, enjoying what _he did_ way too much, and how sexy he is with his hair sticking to the side of his face and wet lips, wonders if they would ever do it again. He jerks off without trying to figure out why he simply didn't get out of Junhui's bedroom before his brain reacted on its own, he does so with sounds staining his ears and a very particular image in his head, trying not to get his hopes high — whatever said hopes exactly are — trying not to feel too guilty by the will to get back to Junhui's bedroom and doing a lot more than just giving him a handjob. 

The most coherent thought his brain can manage to produce in a non-abstract form when he cums faster than intended is how, despite getting off to the thought of it, he couldn't _bear_ to actually let Junhui do the same to him. Perhaps he would know things not even Minghao is ready to know about, because that's just the way Junhui is, he knows too much, always a step ahead of him.

A droplet of water falls down his neck as he rests his head on the wall behind him after washing his hands. He analyses the bags under his eyes and how his lips look plumper than usual, tinted with small red circles where he bit them. He sighs when he feels his legs trying to warn him they will give out, holds himself into the sink and runs his fingers through his messy hair. There is no way he can manage being alone with his own head right now.

×

Junhui's eyes are frozen at the door, looking exactly at where Minghao stands now, as if he had been waiting for him to come back. He stays there for five seconds before fully entering the room again, the door once more clicking shut behind his back.

He was _indeed_ waiting for him to come back, he can see it now into Junhui's eyes. Minghao questions what he would have done if he had just gone back to his own room, but he doesn't voice it out. He walks quick steps before he can regret doing it again, slips into the bed with his mouth shut, and reprimands his lips to keep themselves closed when he wants to gasp at the way Junhui is staring at him, lying there, way too close.

Minghao realises he has indulged himself with a lot of twenty seconds of courage during the past half an hour — his minutes composed of a count of those twenty instead of the normal sixty seconds — as the rush of time slowly comes to an end, going back to the usual tic toc, and Junhui analyses every freckle on his face which is only seven centimetres away at best. It takes him all the guts to do the same and count the — _one, two, three, four, there are many —_ moles on Junhui's face while he is at it, but his audacity isn't enough to trace them out and connect the dots with his fingertip, not when he knows them by heart, not when he knows there are two just above his lips.

Not even twenty minutes of courage would be enough to make him comply to the voice in his head telling him to close their distance and simply kiss the other, he needs to solve the puzzle sprawled onto Junhui's face first, but after three more minutes — which maybe have been only one according to his own count — he takes his thumb and runs it through the space in between his eyebrows, sending the frown away. Junhui beams at him, almost chuckles, when he realises the touch, however, he doesn't pull away, and for that, Minghao is glad. 

The next thing Minghao feels is the press of foreign lips on his nose. He is startled, confused even, sure he is the one frowning now, but no gasp leaves his mouth. He honestly doesn't think his lungs can bear to receive any kind of air right now.

"Don't look at me like that," Junhui whispers, "like I've committed a crime by kissing your nose." 

Minghao thinks he would have fallen if he were standing up, so he closes his eyes. He has just given Junhui a handjob and _yet_ seems _too_ affected by a fucking friendly affectionate act. It is almost ridiculous as far as he's concerned.

There's no more talking. Minghao doesn't remember opening his eyes again, still not sure when he has actually gotten to sleep or what Junhui did after he shut himself off. What he knows is that they still wake up with their limbs tangled together and closer than he had intended them to be, his head buried onto Junhui's neck. 

Minghao gets up carefully before Junhui wakes up. They don't talk about what happened while they have breakfast.

×

_You (19:37): hey where are you? i am at the bus stop so we can go home together_

_Junjun (20:03): ah i am not going home now haohao_

_Junjun (20:04): i need to help seungcheol with a project that is coming up_

_Junjun (20:04): thought i had told you, sorry :/_

Minghao sighs as he gets into the bus, hands lost inside his pockets, body collapsing on one of the seats at the back. He missed three buses as he waited for Junhui to answer his message, twenty minutes, all gone. It is not a problem. His head hits the window, the earphones scream at him through a calming beat — _I keep watching the world trace, their circles in their places, joining the race inside a maze, look 'round, are you one of them?_ — and Minghao decides that his belonging issues are not the ones disturbing his long-deserved peace after all the History of Art classes he had to go through. 

Twenty minutes of waiting, classes he did not pay attention to, philosophical questions not even the universe has the answer to, none of those is truly his problem. 

Junhui. Junhui is not a problem, either. Have never been, will never be. For all that Minghao knows, he is the only problem existing at the moment. It started when he pushed himself out of the bed before Junhui could wake up so he wouldn't have to deal with the possibility of regretful eyes as the first thing he saw in the morning. It happened again when he couldn't bear to look into Junhui's eyes as they ate, changing seats and taking his bowl with him to eat sitting on the sofa. While they made their way into university, Minghao hissed when he felt Junhui's hands brushing his own, and completely cut him off when he tried to initiate conversation. 

Earlier, he had called it self-preservation. Now, he is simply sure he was being a pain in the ass, and for all he is concerned, he knows Junhui had no school project to get done tonight, as he had finished all his studies last weekend so he could play League of Legends with Joshua and Wonwoo without guilt, as he did every Thursday night. It is, perhaps, _in fact,_ completely fair that Junhui doesn't wish for his company right now.

×

"Guess who is home!"

Minghao turns around from where he is — almost inside their fridge, looking for something to eat — to follow the excited voice and the clinking of keys left behind. 

He murmurs a _hey_ over his shoulder, carefully eyeing Junhui and the box he brought in his arms as he leaves his backpack on the floor.

Minghao could ask how the study session went, he could start telling him about his day, but all that would come out would be chantings of all of his concerns, so he bites his lips and continues watching, pretending the yellow light emanating from the fridge is part of his casual agenda.

Junhui puts the box on the counter and glances inside the refrigerator. "We need to go grocery shopping."

Minghao snorts, closes the door and leans on the island, playing with his fingers, "We really should. Let's put that on the list."

"For when we are less tired."

Minghao nods, but cannot help closing his eyes when he realises how soft their voices are, a contrast to the normal tone they speak to each other, as if both are being careful not to break the peaceful atmosphere. Too peaceful for his liking. 

"By the way," Junhui smiles, "it is pizza. I figured you would be hungry, so…"

Minghao wants to stretch his arm and hold Junhui, caress his cheek, scream out of joy because his stomach may have been growling for a while now, apologise for everything so loudly all their neighbours would be able to hear. He thanks him instead. He hopes it will be okay for them to eat facing each other this time, he hopes he won't freak out again.

He feels his nails dipping into the skin of his hands as Junhui gets closer to him to reach the paper towel inside one of the cabinets, and even those movements seem calculated, again too careful. Minghao hates it, he doesn't want Junhui to keep himself under control near him just so he won't break, so he straightens up his back and hopes that acts are better than the words he is not able to let out as he hugs his best friend by surprise, wrapping his arms around him tightly and resting his head on his shoulder. 

Junhui leaves the roll of paper by the sink and hugs him back tightly, rubbing his shoulders, slightly scratching the T-shirt using his nails. It is still a little robotic, but the warmth is there, and it is all that matters. No matter what happens, what they share — whatever it is — is still here.

Before he can notice, Junhui calls for Minghao's name, and when he looks up, Junhui's hands hold his cheeks so tenderly, smearing the tear falling down his face. "I think we need to talk, don't we?"

"I am sorry," Minghao is not sure if he is actually ready to say things out loud, but the idea seems better than being suffocated by his own thoughts, by his own tears, or by the most understanding pair of brown eyes in the world.

"Hao, come on," Junhui tugs a strand of hair behind Minghao's ear and he shuts his thoughts extremely quickly, avoiding everything related to Junhui that is not their subject of discussion. "There is nothing to be sorry about."

Minghao sighs, "Yesterday–"

They say the word at the same time and smile, but he decides Junhui is better at talking. Still, it takes some seconds for him to start, tentatively, "Do you regret what happened?"

There is no way he can talk about it while looking at him, so he buries his face on Junhui's neck, which is somehow way worse, the skin soft against his, the scent taking place inside his lungs, but it is already done. "I just don't want things to change."

Junhui runs his fingers through Minghao's hair, trying to calm him down little by little. "Honey, this doesn't answer my question."

He sighs, a big audible sigh. He knows it doesn't, also knows the way he takes Junhui's pet name and engraves it in his brain doesn't help that much. "Of course I do. Did right away."

"And may I ask why?"

"Come on, Junnie," it is his time to say. "I don't think that entering your best friend's room in the middle of the night and helping him masturbate is proper bro code."

Minghao feels him laughing under his arms. "Yeah, probably not, but, Hao, I wouldn't have let you do something I wasn't comfortable with, alright? It happened, we are here now, it is all super super fine."

He pulls away, just enough to look at Junhui and search for any kind of lie inside his eyes. "Are you a hundred percent sure?"

He beams, "Two hundred percent sure. If I wasn't, you can be sure I wouldn't have bought you pizza."

He scoffs, cold without the embrace, but dealing with it. Drying the tears staining his face by himself, but still dealing with it. "You say it as you're not eating it too."

"I am," he takes the paper towel again. "It doesn’t change the fact that I mainly bought it to make you happier, though." Minghao shakes his head, chuckling. This is better, way better. "Let's eat. I don't like it when it's cold."

"We got a microwave for a reason," he points to the device behind him.

"Boring. I am afraid of those."

×

Minghao opens the door with his eyes closed after three knocks. "Surprise?"

He listens to Junhui laughing lazily, hands behind his back touching the door. "Open your eyes."

"No, I don't think I will until–"

"Hao," he can picture Junhui's cut-the-bullshit face just by his tone, "you can open your eyes, there is nothing today."

"Well, thank god," he chuckles, finally getting to see the way Junhui lies down on his side, one hand supporting his head as the other holds the phone. His hair is still damp from the shower, darker spots adorning his shirt around his neck.

Silence ensues around them, not heavy, just expectant. Maybe more than expectant. Junhui looks at him like he is either waiting for him to say something or wants to say something himself, despite deciding otherwise, putting his cell phone aside.

Minghao breaks it, "Are you going to sleep already?"

It sounds quieter than he intended it to do, it is okay nonetheless. At least it is way less awkward than it was earlier.

"Yeah, yeah," Junhui rubs his eyes. "Busy day, I am tired."

Minghao hums to it, nodding slowly, clutching to the side of his pyjamas. He tries, gesticulating towards the bed, "Do you mind if I…"

He doesn't conclude the question, hesitant. Junhui laughs, sinking further down into the duvet, the sound resonates with his heart deeply. "You are addicted to my room. We might as well exchange."

The mattress welcomes his body alongside the provocation, warmth enveloping him, pillow soft under his head just the way he grew to love. "The purple light helps me sleep better apparently."

"Yes, nice to meet you, Purple Light, but you can call me Wen Junhui."

"Fuck you," the curse doesn't stop the pinkness on his cheeks, but the electromagnetic spectrum has got him covered. "It is cozy, alright?"

They are on the same eye level when Junhui murmurs something which sounds like the word cute and moves forward, leaving a small peck on his nose, retracting just as fast. Minghao swears to everything above themselves in this universe he _really_ doesn't know how to process it again, his eyes wide open. If it says anything, he is still trying not to overthink all the caresses in the kitchen earlier and not make them out to be something they are not, no matter how he wishes they were. For now, sarcasm is his shield, because all his other defenses are blown out. "Is this going to be a regular thing?"

"I like doing it," Junhui shrugs, smiling deviously. "I actually want to _bite_ your nose but I think you would punch me if I did."

"I would bite you _back,_ Junhui, then we would see."

For the way he throws his head back when he laughs, Minghao feels his eyes gleaming, the feeling of want coming back, the will to stretch out and let himself touch, but he closes his hand in a fist, holding back again. When Junhui looks at him again, he smiles, "But just for a fact, I like it too."

He says it because he means it. It is worth it when the fondness of the other reaches him through their shared looks before he can close their distance just so fast to deposit another kiss. It itches, but Minghao doesn't have the guts to move his hands to scratch it. "Good, I am going to keep doing it, then."

It is enough for him to shake his head, trying so hard to hide his smile. He doesn't succeed but turns around fast enough to pretend it is not noticeable. "Goodnight, Junjun."

"Minghao?"

His eyes are closed, "Yes?"

"You don't need to leave in the morning right after you wake up."

There is a hint of a smile in his voice, which Minghao mimics, although he doesn't turn back again to confirm if he is right or not. "Sleep well, Junnie."

The last thing he feels is an arm resting upon his waist. He doesn't move it away.

×

It is Friday, and Minghao is tired. 

After his well-deserved shower with a lot of pampering from himself to himself only, he is glad Junhui has left his door opened, even when Minghao knows he is working on his experiments. 

He doesn't bother to knock or announce his presence with anything other than going inside the bedroom and throwing himself on the bed. With the sound, Junhui turns around from where he is standing by the window to look at him. "Hello, perturbation."

Perturbation, Minghao knows, is an astronomical concept involving gravitational force which helped scientists discover Neptune. In simple words, of course, Junhui would explain it better. In fact, it is just another way for him to call Minghao out.

"Am I that much of a nuisance?"

"Nah," he puts his pencil on the desk after closing the window, standing at the end of the bed. "Nuisance is the fact that I am an astronomer who cannot study properly because of pollution."

He snorts, catching a pillow to put under his head. "Should have thought about that before moving to the big city."

Junhui seems to think for a little while, looking at some point in the distance, laughing when he seems to find an interesting thought in a way Minghao thinks it is so endearing but hides the feeling at the back of his mind.

"What?"

He waves his hand dismissively, "Just thought of something."

"Well, might as well say it."

Junhui looks at him straight in the eyes, considering something he isn't quite sure of what it might be, but as he makes up his mind, he doesn't back off, smirking playfully, "At least I can still see all the stars inside your eyes when you look at me."

Minghao wants to cry when he blushes to it, groaning while throwing the pillow at Junhui. They laugh, "You're ridiculous, Junhui."

"Yeah, yeah, maybe I am," he lies down beside him, landing with a puff. "Come on, tell me about your day, about your classes," he puts on a fake dark face, "tell me something you think I don't know."

Once a theatre kid, always a theatre kid, Minghao supposes. "Don't you need to finish your project?"

"Supposedly so. Nothing I can do without some observatory kind of telescope, unfortunately. But really, tell me something about you you think I don't know."

And there are a lot of untold messages about this statement, so Minghao tries not to sigh, failing miserably. He manages to pull it off the best he can, "Sometimes when I am practicing on stage, I think about how you made the wrong choice by majoring in Astronomy because I miss performing with you."

They laugh together. Surely Junhui wasn't expecting something like this. "Do you miss singing our version of _Perhaps Love_ that bad?"

This is a serious question. There is no way he would sing the song which made them fall for the stage together with another person. "Yes, of course I do."

"Maybe," he accommodates his head on both of his arms crossed, "I could consider joining the theatre group next semester again, as a hobby this time."

Minghao lifts up slightly. This is not something they have talked about before. "Wait, _seriously?_ Do you think that's a good idea?"

Considering this was how they met in the first place, way before Junhui decided to change his major, going on stage with him again would certainly be an experience. There is a magical feeling about the way their voices stand out when together Minghao is yet to find in any other person who acts in musicals with him.

"I still love acting, Haohao. The stars just made me love them more. I miss being on stage with you, too. I would love to go back for a while."

"I just hope," he says jokingly, "you will love me just as much if I get to become a star."

 _"When_ you do," Junhui smiles honestly, "I will love you the most out of them all."

It is soft, it feels like a promise, one Minghao thinks he can believe in. He closes his eyes, this is a good feeling. 

"Well, you be my guest while I will take a very needed shower, alright?"

Minghao doesn't move a muscle but hums positively. 

It is needless to say he wakes up to find himself snuggling Junhui in the morning, as natural as it can be. 

He smiles. Maybe he could get used to this. 

×

Home. 

Home, Minghao thinks, is a place to come back to. 

Home is the light coming from the glass window behind him. It is the bowl left alone on the kitchen counter, where laughs are made when the space is too little for two people to cook together. The voice muffled coming from the inside of Junhui's bedroom, closed door not to disturb him as he plays, feels like home. He figures — as he lifts his head from where he lies, on the sofa, right foot touching the ground — that the shoes left mixed together by the door and the set of keys tangled in one another is a sign he is safe here inside.

Home as he knows it is made out of lavender smiles and awkward moments, of situations he wants to get used to, but maybe this is not the way to go.

He pictures the toothbrushes side by side on the bathroom sink, he pictures closed fists and the sighs he holds back, he pictures jokes that he is not _sure_ if are really only jokes or if he is making them out to be something else. 

For the longest time, Minghao thinks home is something to be _sure_ about, something he doesn't want to lose. 

Home, Minghao concludes, is something he cannot shatter.

Three minutes ahead of the present, he takes a coat, his phone, puts his shoes on. As he types a text message — a warning, a cry for help — he looks at the keys resting by the door. Consciously, he takes Junhui's with him, holding it firmly against his palm as he walks into the night, the moon guarding his steps, a reminder of something he is waiting to let out.

×

"I have got some questions."

He must look truly puzzled because when they properly get inside, Seokmin hands him a huge glass of water before they sit together on the floor of his living room.

Seokmin has the kindest eyes in the world, patiently waiting for him to find words to explain why he knocked on his door in the middle of the weekend, completely out of the blue, caressing his leg with only a finger while at it, just to give Minghao some reassurance.

"Junhui," he starts, "is my best friend, right?"

"Ouch," he laughs, but Minghao knows he does it to lighten up the mood. "But yes, I suppose."

"No, I mean," he gesticulates the best he can without dropping the water on the floor, "not that you aren't, but like, he is my best friend, right? He's a best friend of mine."

"Surely so"

"And we live together."

There's not even a trace of annoyance in his tone when Seokmin replies, "You guys do."

"Alright. He is my best friend, we live together, have been doing so for two years already." Seokmin nods. "What changes if we have been sleeping together?"

" _Oh._ " Okay, this does sound deceiving. "I wasn't expecting this."

"No, no," Minghao groans, he is definitely overcomplicating things. "I mean, yes, but, _sleeping,_ _just_ _sleeping_." Memories of last Wednesday come back to his mind, he brushes them away. This is _not_ the topic of discussion now.

"It's a normal thing to do, Hao," he takes a sip out of his own glass. "Sometimes it's cold, and you want someone to hold you while you sleep. Nothing weird about that." 

Minghao considers, "Do you and Mingyu do this?" 

"Yes, we do." _Oh,_ alright. This can change things. Maybe Minghao has been really overthinking it all, perhaps this is all friendly banter and even the pick up lines are truly normal jokes, and his heart is messing up with him, and he's not ruining anything, and he's not shattering anything, and— "But you need to consider we are not that much of a model to follow if I am getting the right ideas here."

"Hm, what do you mean?"

Seokmin scratches the back of his head, but his smile doesn't falter. "We have been, like, _something_ for nearly a month now." 

"You guys _what?_ "

His state of pure shock is interrupted by the ringing of Seokmin's phone. He looks at the screen and smiles before picking up, wiggling his brows at Minghao as he does so. "Hey, Jun."

Minghao presses his lips together as he listens to this side of the conversation, this is a mess. "Yes, Minghao is here. Yes, yes, he is fine, don't you worry." He smiles, for the first time ever, his smile makes Minghao's guts twitch. "Wait, let me ask. Are you going back soon?" 

_Can I stay the night?_ escapes his lips quietly, he receives a nod as an answer. "I think he is staying the night. It's a little late for him to go back alone. I would ask Mingyu to take him back by car, but he is not here today. He is going to be okay, though, it's really okay."

Silence takes place for a moment again, a fond smile spreads on Seokmin's face. "I will remember it. Don't take too long to sleep, too, alright? Yeah, bye, Jun."

Minghao looks at him expectantly, "So?"

He throws the device on the sofa, "He got worried when he realised you weren't there when he finished playing." He throws Minghao a knowing look. Knowing, not accusatory. "He also asked me to hold you during the night in case you have nightmares or cannot sleep." 

This is enough to make Minghao whine as he hides his face inside his arms. This is too much, truly too much. He is sure his face is the colour of his beating heart, it's too precious, too genuine, _too Junhui._ Seokmin fondles his hair when he doesn't look up again.

"Was this enough for you to forget about me and Mingyu?" 

"No," he says without lifting up his head, but turning it to look at the beaming person in front of him. "No, it was not. I am really happy for you guys, I really am. Cannot believe you didn't tell me, though, this is treason, Min, _treason_."

Seokmin accepts the punch he receives on the knee. "In our defense," _our,_ cute, "we are still testing the waters. Although, I don't actually think this was avoidable." Minghao agrees, destiny does make the right decisions sometimes. "But you know, it doesn't mean this is the same for you and Jun. You can continue cuddling without being anything more than best friends, even though I think I know you well enough to know you wouldn't be here now if this happened to be the case." 

"I am not sure of anything, you know Junnie is super affectionate with people."

Seokmin sighs, "Jun is the softest person we will ever meet, yes, but the way he acts around you is not something I've seen him doing with anyone else." When Minghao doesn't answer, too lost in memories of hugs and innocent kisses to properly do so, he continues, "Hao, you know it's okay if you like Junhui, don't you?"

But is it really? Was only Wednesday enough to prove their friendship can go through it all? What if he is only as much of a safe place to Junhui as he is to him and that's why they are the way they are with each other?

"Let me add more into your mess so we can make some sense out of it. If for all the times you try to avoid your feelings you had to act upon it even in the slightest way, what would you do?"

This is easy to answer because every time Junhui wraps his arm around his waist while they sleep, he wants to pull him closer right away instead of letting the perturbation of their own bodies attract them to each other as time passes. For all the times Junhui laughs when they are too close, he wants to kiss the moles above his lips and the ones on his cheek, and as much as the nose kisses make the butterflies on his stomach come into life, he wishes they reached a little lower sometimes, right on his lips. When Junhui calls him by cute pet names, he wants to melt and create even cuter nicknames for him, even though it will be hard to admit just how much he wants to run his fingers through Junhui's hair whenever it is messy, because he knows how soft it is.

"Touch," he whispers. "I would touch." 

No explanation is needed, Seokmin seems to get it right away. Maybe Minghao is more transparent than he thanks. "Don't hold back then, Hao."

He cannot promise anything, but he nods because he can consider, he can think about it. It should be enough for now. 

"As you're spending the night here–"

"Actually, I can go back home. It's okay." 

"No way I am letting you go back. It's late, and I'm sure you need more time to find a proper excuse to why you're here." He stands up. "Also, it's perfect timing. Mingyu won't come back for the night, so you can have my bed, and I'll have his. It smells like him, anyway." 

He says the last part with a tender tone which makes Minghao's heart flutter with endearment, already missing the vanilla scent. He shakes his head, understanding how his friend feels.

"While you're here, choose something to watch," he finds the remote control, handing it to him. "I'll catch snacks for us to eat."

He does as told, climbing up on the sofa, head aloof, haphazardly going through the channels. Seokmin comes back with chips and chocolate bars, and, well, not his ideal dinner, but he couldn't be more grateful.

He snorts suddenly, "I cannot believe it."

Destiny, as he has thought about before, is surely good at playing its part, he thinks when _Love, Rosie_ is airing, already at the ending part. The fact that this is the movie which caused it all days ago is truly funny. 

"What?"

"This is Junnie's favourite movie," he takes a piece of chocolate to his mouth exactly when, on the screen, Ruby drinks out of her glass after Rosie finishes her speech, which in case, he knows almost by heart, not as well as Junhui does, but if requested, he would be able to pull it off. "I like it a lot, too."

Oh, the feeling, the tears in her eyes, the way she pronounces each word as they have the weight of the universe in them, how it is a perfect love confession completely out of place, how everyone is aware of it. Truly awkward.

Minghao often thinks about weddings. He thinks about having a cool house to come back to at the end of the day, thinks about someone else to share it with, tries not to give a familiar face to this character inside his head.

He watches the party ensue, people dancing together, celebrating love and union, Rosie crying because she thinks she has lost the love of her life forever. 

He considers a ceremony. Surely, he would much rather something private and comforting, is sure Seokmin and Mingyu would attend, knows Junhui would be there, wishes so. Minghao also knows Junhui dreams of a ceremony with the love of his life, hopeless romantic as he pretends he isn't, he would certainly want something extravagant, non-traditional, a celebration in the truest meaning of the word, a celebration of love, of himself and his lover, just as he talks about it whenever the subject comes. He usually says he wants Minghao to be there right beside him, which he agrees on, he will certainly be. 

Somehow, he understands Rosie better than he should do. As she cries for a seemingly lost love, Minghao contemplates feeling this kind of heartbreak, and when _his_ face makes itself present on his mind, he wonders how it would be like to move separately one day, to be a best man, to be by his side, holding his hands and encouraging, but not to be the one to know how the little dots on his upper lip taste like. It hurts to consider that one day, if he doesn't decide to take some shots, he might need to write a speech as a best man, and try really hard not to make it sound like a love confession.

×

When he decides to come back home, it's already 7 p.m. again. In his defense, Mingyu had brought food from his mother's house, and this isn't the kind of thing his body would allow him to turn down. 

The shoes are still messily left by the door, his own set of keys right where they belong, but he leaves Junhui's in the door. The kettle is indicating the water has been boiled, he leaves the plastic containers on the counter for them to eat later, nothing out of the ordinary.

He is careful when he rests his body on the doorway of Junhui's bedroom, open, inviting. Minghao knows he needs to be wary of what's going to happen, if it does, after all. He still hasn't been able to shake off the feeling that if it goes wrong, it's a home he loses.

Junhui's turning around to smile at him calms down his senses while the known feeling spreads itself inside Minghao's chest. He doesn't do anything to stop it. "Hey."

"Trying to find your next extraterrestrial house?" He sets on placing himself on the chair by Junhui's desk while observing him move around the telescope by the window.

"Unfortunately," he puts his glasses up to properly get close to the eyepiece, "the rent for this month has already been paid, so you're still stuck with me for at least a month."

"What a pity, grocery is getting more and more expensive," no bite whatsoever while Minghao plays with the ends of his shirt. Junhui chuckles but doesn't answer. "That's why I brought you food, though. A treat from Gyu's mom."

Junhui stops abruptly, turning around to look at him, "And you're only telling me _now_ that you went to their house because Gyu's mom was cooking?"

He giggles. It is not as if he knew it either. "I left it in the kitchen, let's eat it."

"Okay, let me just," he scribbles something on his notepad, numbers, coordinates, maybe a smiley face at the end. "Mars looks very pretty today, you should check."

Minghao gets up, taking place behind the lenses. He clearly has not mastered the ability to identify the planets as fast as Junhui does, and knowing it, he receives a little push to the side. "More to the right, a little up, it's super super bright."

Sometimes, when the sky is clear and he can pinpoint the stars of a constellation, Minghao can kind of understand why Junhui endures all the physics classes in order to get a little closer to them. At times he can see shiny meteors flying around, so distant, so significant, he gets as excited as Junhui does.

" _Jun_ , not to alarm you, but I think I saw a shooting star."

"You're _kidding_ me," he shoves Minghao to the side to look. "This is _so_ unfair, Xu Minghao. I've been trying to see one for hours, and they are not even _that_ hard to see."

"I'm sorry," he laughs, clearly not sorry at all. His arm is punched.

"Alright, then, let's make a wish. This is important."

Minghao agrees, brings his hands clasped together up to his chin and closes his eyes. Wishing on a shooting star for health and happiness is good, wishing to be together with someone — no matter how, just staying by their side would be enough — for the longest you can, seems to fit better according to what he feels. 

As he opens his eyes, Junhui is staring at him, waiting. "What did you wish for?"

"You're not supposed to tell anyone. The more you talk about it, the less likely it is to come true."

He hopes he is as unreadable as he wants to be, _to spend the rest of my life with you by my side_ might not be a good answer sometimes, even when he wants to say it so badly.

Gladly, Junhui smiles, always a step ahead of him, "I wished for you. I have before, will do so in the future. You're always my first choice when it comes to these things, when it comes to anything, really." 

Maybe a marathon ahead of him, Minghao figures. The lights can hide the red of his face, but they won't make words come out of his mouth. There's no tint of a joke in Junhui's tone, despite the smirk, he sounds as sincere as he sounds when he says Minghao's hair looks nice before they head to university or when he points out a step he has missed on a dancing routine he has been practicing in the living room for an upcoming play. 

It's easy to say he shortcuts, not able to dismiss the words as he usually does, no funny pun coming to his mind, so he hides. It's a trait of his, he hides when he gets shy about something, not the best at accepting flattering words. The first hiding place he finds is Junhui's shoulder. "Don't say these kinds of things."

"Why not? They are so true." He feels arms enveloping him, and there he stays, as vulnerable as he can feel. "You know, I found out it's not really cool to sleep without you here."

Minghao snorts softly, "I wasn't that far away." 

"Yes, you were," he listens to the words being whispered into his ear, trembling at each one. "But your pillow's scent reminds me of you, so it's okay."

He feels a little bit dizzy at the new information. He wants to sound accusatory, but his voice is shaking, "You slept in my bed."

Junhui laughs under his embrace, nodding, not ashamed at all. Minghao gets tired of holding back, so he presses his lips above the T-shirt on Junhui's shoulder. The lack of response makes him go a little higher, leaving a kiss on his neck, near the collarbones, slowly moving to the ear, almost childishly depositing another one on his cheek, touching the same place with his thumb only for a second before going for the nose, their thing. They laugh together when Junhui kisses his back, as tender as it is quick, and they refuse to tear the gazes away from each other, smiles big as they only are when affected by the other.

"Sometimes," Minghao starts without ever looking away, but this is the bit of certainty he needs, "I worry if I am not simply reading things wrongly, but I do hope I am not."

"There is a possibility that if you are indeed reading me wrongly, I might be committing the same mistake."

Minghao searches through his entire face for doubt, for hidden feelings, but everything is out in the open in a way he has never seen before, and he is one to think he can read Junhui well enough. 

"Do it," Junhui says as soon as he realises Minghao's stare travelled down to look at his lips. "Do it, please."

Minghao gives in to the plea for only for a second, their lips brush against each other before he pulls back, but he feels Junhui chasing it, chasing him. He holds Minghao's face with the softest touch he has ever felt before continuing, silently inquiring, mapping his eyes as if they were the night full of stars. Finally, he kisses Minghao again, slowly, tentatively, as though the universe has stopped to watch them melt into each other, opening his lips with his own, and Minghao sighs happily as he finally comes to realise Junhui's lips taste like nothing more than pure love. 

Junhui visibly cannot contain his smile when they separate, Minghao is sure this is the loveliest scene he has ever witnessed, and fuck the celestial bodies above their buildings, he just wants to guarantee Junhui's wishes turn into reality with his own hands. 

He tugs his hand, swaying their arms childishly, "Sleep with me?"

"We need to eat, Junnie," he says while bringing the free one to brush the strands of hair off of Junhui's face.

But it's no use. He drags them towards the bed, throwing their bodies onto it, laughter resonating. "Later, lie down with me for now." 

It's not like he has another choice, but not like he would choose anything other than this, either. He complies, their faces so near he can feel their noses brushing against each other. It itches, Minghao likes the feeling. 

"Promise me you'll never sleep without me again."

"But what if like, I need to travel, or you do, or I sleep in another place like last night, or–"

Fist meets shoulder for the second time in the past minutes. "Come on, you know what I mean, don't ruin the mood."

Minghao chuckles, "I do promise it."

"Pinky promise?" 

He displays his finger for Minghao to catch it with his own. He takes it, intertwining, kissing both of them. "If that will make your wish come true."

Junhui smiles before kissing him again, "It will."

Minghao finds out _home_ can be inside someone's embrace. Above all, inside _Junhui's_.

**Author's Note:**

> So yay! I truly hope this was enjoyable to read. Please consider [telling me](https://curiouscat.me/andythie) what you thought about it!  
> This is very likely the last work I'll post this year, but there's still a lot to come, so hope you choose to stick around!  
> I am occasionally at [twitter](https://twitter.com/hiraethie) in case you want to have a chat!


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